


Sharing Is Caring

by enigmaticblue



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-08
Updated: 2010-04-08
Packaged: 2017-10-08 19:06:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/78613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmaticblue/pseuds/enigmaticblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It wasn't too long after the Harvelles' deaths that Castiel stopped being able to mend his clothes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sharing Is Caring

It wasn’t too long after the Harvelles’ deaths that Castiel stopped being able to mend his clothes.

After Cas appeared out of thin air to whisk them away from Lucifer, Sam, Dean, and Cas went back to Bobby’s, because there wasn’t anything else they could do. Their last, best chance at killing Lucifer—at least other than Dean saying yes—was gone, Jo and Ellen were dead, their bodies already burned, and there was nothing to do but lie low and hope for the best.

Well, in theory; Sam was pretty sure that Dean was as short on hope as he was, which was why Castiel showing up at their motel room looking much the worse for wear didn’t surprise him.

Something of Sam’s displeasure—with the situation, not Cas—must have shown on his face, because the first words out of Cas’ mouth were, “I’m sorry. Dean told me where you were staying.”

“Come in.” Sam stepped aside, taking in the torn, bloody trench coat, the equally torn and bloody dress shirt, the tie that was even more askew than usual. “You okay?”

“I don’t know.” Cas glanced down, blue eyes seeming surprised at his appearance. “I—I can’t repair my vessel or my clothing.”

Sam frowned, not liking the sound of that. Cas had already told them that he couldn’t exorcise demons with a touch anymore, but if Cas couldn’t heal himself either, then they were in deep shit.

“Okay, let’s see what we’re working with.” When Cas just stared at him, Sam motioned to his clothes. “You’ll need to take your coat and shirt off.”

“Oh.” Castiel moved slowly, but it gave Sam time to grab the first aid kit.

The pale skin of Cas’ chest was smeared with blood in places and mottled with bruises. He was lean, without the hard, well defined muscles of a hunter. Sam began to sponge away the blood from Cas’ lacerations and was relieved when he noted that Cas didn’t appear to require stitches.

“What happened?” Sam asked as he taped butterfly bandages over a cut on Cas’ chest.

“I was searching for God and was attacked by a group of demons.” Castiel focused on Sam’s hands. “Are you all right, Sam?”

“Yeah, I’m good.”

The door burst open and Dean strode in, carrying the pizzas he’d gone out for earlier. “Cas, you okay?”

“I’m fine, Dean.”

Dean apparently wasn’t ready to take Cas’ word for it, because he shouldered Sam aside, jerking his head at the pizza on the table. “Better eat while it’s still hot, Sam. I’ll take care of Cas.”

Sam smirked at Dean’s possessiveness; one of these days Dean would get off his ass and jump the angel, but he was taking his sweet time about it.

“I see you started without me,” Sam observed when he lifted the lid. Two pieces were missing, and Sam picked up another couple of slices, one for each hand.

Dean grunted as he finished bandaging Cas’ wounds. “I was hungry. You hungry, Cas?”

Castiel had gone quiet, watching Dean perform his ministrations, apparently lost in thought. “Huh?”

“You hungry?”

Cas shook his head. “I do not require sustenance.”

The unspoken _yet_ hung in the air, and Dean patted him on the shoulder. “Okay. Let me grab some clothes for you, then I’m going to finish my meal.”

Sam finished off his first piece of pizza and started on the second, watching the by-play with interest. “Where are you going to find clothes for him, Dean?”

He kept his tone innocent, but maybe he sounded _too_ innocent, because Dean shot him a look that clearly said, “Shut the fuck up, Sammy.”

Sam had learned to ignore that expression with impunity over the years.

“He can wear some of my stuff,” Dean finally responded when Cas turned an equally inquisitive expression on him. “We’re not _that_ much different in size.”

~~~~~

That was how it started.

It wasn’t like he and Dean had a lot of money to buy Castiel a new wardrobe, but when it became obvious that Cas wasn’t going to be able to fix his old clothes anytime soon, Dean sprang for a few new shirts and a couple of pairs of jeans. They didn’t have time to do a lot of shopping, so Dean just bought stuff in his size, and Cas used whatever came to hand.

And all of it was stored in Dean’s bag.

Sam had half-expected Dean to get fed up with Cas’ presence, or maybe Cas wearing his clothes, but Dean seemed to take it for granted that Cas would stay, and Cas did just that.

One morning, a couple of weeks later, Sam watched as Dean fished around in his bag for clean clothes. “Cas!” he yelled. “Did you grab the last clean shirt?”

Cas’ head popped out of the bathroom, his brow creased in a slight frown. “I thought you wore it yesterday.”

Dean scowled. “What’s that you’re wearing?”

“The shirt from yesterday.” Cas’ eyebrows went up. “Is that not right?”

“No, that’s fine.” Dean glanced over his shoulder at Sam. “How are you doing on laundry, Sam?”

Sam shrugged. “I could stand to do some. You know, maybe you and Cas should get some more clothes and different bags.”

Dean stared at him. “Why?”

Sam smothered a grin. “Never mind. Forget it. Do you want me to take it?”

“Nah, Cas and I can go,” Dean replied. “He’s gotta learn how to use a Laundromat at some point if he can’t magic his clothes clean anymore.”

Sam motioned to his laptop. “I’ll just keep on researching then.”

“You do that. Cas! Grab the rest of the laundry, would you?”

“Of course, Dean.”

Sam didn’t bother to hide his amusement as Dean and Cas gathered up their dirty clothing, stuffing it into Dean’s bag. As they left the motel room, Sam heard Cas ask Dean a question about how a Laundromat worked, and Sam chuckled as he turned back to his research.

~~~~~

When lunchtime rolled around, and Sam hadn’t seen any sign of Dean or Cas, he decided to swing by the local deli for something to eat. He ordered a turkey sandwich for himself, pastrami for Dean, and a ham and cheese for Cas—he might not need to eat, but he enjoyed it.

Sam paused outside the Laundromat, peering through the glass front at Dean and Cas. They were sitting on a couple of dryers, side by side, almost like a couple of kids. Sam remembered sitting with Dean in various Laundromats just like this one, all over the country, waiting for their clothing to dry.

The bell over the door chimed as Sam shoved it open, and both Cas and Dean looked up. Dean appeared more relaxed than he had for a while, a smile tilting up the corners of his mouth.

“Hey, Sammy.” Dean’s smile turned into a grin when he caught sight of the bag Sam carried. “What’s that?”

“Lunch,” Sam explained succinctly, beginning to pass out sandwiches. “I was hungry, and I thought you might be, too.”

“Thank you, Sam,” Castiel said with his usual grave courtesy as he took the sandwich.

Sam wondered if Cas realized how much more human he acted now as he unwrapped the sandwich, spreading the paper out on his lap to catch any dropped food or mayonnaise. Sam considered mentioning that fact but decided not to comment.

Instead, they ate their food in companionable silence, Castiel making little sounds of pleasure that had Sam striving not to laugh as Dean’s face progressively reddened.

“That was very good, Sam. Thank you.”

Sam grinned. “I wish I could take the credit for it, Cas.”

Dean choked on his sandwich, causing Castiel to turn to him with a concerned expression. “Are you all right, Dean?”

“Fine,” Dean gasped, his face red for a very different reason now.

Sam smirked from his spot at the folding table across from the dryers. “When someone chokes on food, you’re supposed to hit them on the back, between the shoulder blades.”

Dean fended off Castiel’s raised hand. “I’m good, man. And by the way, don’t listen to my brother.”

“I was just trying to explain the ways of humans to Cas,” Sam replied, unable to resist the opportunity to give Dean a hard time. “Since Dean refuses to explain.”

Castiel frowned. “What do you mean by that?”

Dean gave Sam a warning look. “Sam—”

“Well, clearly Dean hasn’t explained the conventions behind wearing someone else’s clothing.” Sam gave Dean an evil grin in response to Dean’s strangled yelp. “Because, you know, when people share clothing, it usually means that they’re involved.”

“Sam!”

“In a sexual way,” Sam added helpfully.

Castiel merely looked puzzled, eyebrows drawn together. “But we aren’t.”

“That’s because Sam is full of shit, and he’s trying to piss me off,” Dean said firmly, interrupting anything Sam might have said.

Sam finished off his sandwich and stood to leave. “Well, that’s true enough,” Sam agreed equably. “But you know what they say.” He pushed the door open and shot a grin over his shoulder. “Sharing is caring.”

Sam grinned smugly as he left the Laundromat. Now that he’d made the suggestion, he suspected that Castiel’s natural curiosity wouldn’t allow him to let the matter drop.

~~~~~

“You know, sometimes I really hate him.” Dean scowled at the Laundromat’s door as it closed behind Sam, his face uncomfortably hot.

Cas turned to look at him. “Was he wrong?”

The dryer buzzed, and Dean heaved a huge sigh of relief. “Come on. If you leave them in there, they’ll wrinkle.”

“Aren’t your clothes usually wrinkled from being in the duffel bag?” Cas asked.

Trust Cas to not only notice something like that, but to be logical about it.

“Yeah, but there’s a difference.”

“Aren’t wrinkles all the same?”

“No, they’re in different places. Mostly.” Dean began pulling shirts and jeans out of the dryer, folding them quickly and efficiently, easily sorting piles into Sam’s and—

Dean paused, realizing that Sam was right about one thing, anyway. The fact that he and Cas were sharing clothes _meant_ something; he just didn’t know what.

“Is something wrong?”

Castiel’s quiet question broke Dean out of his thoughts, and Dean gave a brief shake of his head. “No. It’s good, Cas.”

“Are we—_good_?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“I can’t exorcise demons anymore. I am—”

“Don’t say useless,” Dean ordered. They hadn’t talked about this—they hadn’t talked about _anything_ really. Not about Jo and Ellen’s deaths, not about Cas’ fading abilities, not about the Colt’s failure to kill Lucifer.

In all honesty, Dean suspected that once they had this conversation, he would have to bring up the inevitable—whether he would say yes to Michael, whether it would be worth the price.

“It’s the truth. I’ll be human before long.” Cas’ voice was wistful, and he glanced away from Dean as though afraid of Dean’s censure. As if Dean could blame him for _this_, when it was Dean’s fault.

Dean had no idea how to convince Castiel of that, but an idea occurred to him, and he began the ritual for exorcism while folding clothes. “_Exorcizo te, omnis spiritus immunde, in nomine Dei_.”

Castiel frowned at him, not understanding. “I don’t…”

“_Patris omnipotentis, et in noimine Jesu_,” Dean continued, giving Castiel a meaningful look.

Understanding dawned, and Castiel continued the prayer. “_Christi Filii ejus, Domini et Judicis nostri, et in virtute Spiritus_.” He nodded. “Yes, I see.”

“Do you?” Dean asked, leaning against the dryer, trying to will Cas to get it because he certainly couldn’t say it out loud.

Castiel’s hand rested next to Dean’s on the dryer, their little fingers just touching. “Yes, I believe I do.”

Dean smiled. “Then we’re good.”

And Castiel’s answering smile made Dean think that he might just turn out to be right.


End file.
